


Sugar on Aisle 13

by Anonymous



Series: Kinktober 2019 [15]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Intercrural Sex, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Overstimulation, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Sugar Daddy, Uniforms, bullshit contract discussion i am not a lawyer, business propositioning, graphic sexual description, it is absolutely a pot shot at 50sog bc that shit is laughable, thigh fucking, whole foods please dont sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 03:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Percy frowns at the shelves, because it looks like his favorite flavor is out. “Fuck.”Someone clears their throat. He looks over to see a clearly uniformed worker eyeing him, mossy green polo shirt, dark wash jeans, long hair pulled back into a ponytail, along with a kind face, and welcoming expression. Too bad Percy is out of fucks like the store is out of kombucha.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zerozerokyu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zerozerokyu/gifts).

> here's a day that got SUPERBLY out of fucking hand. I wont tell you how long it took me to write this bc it would end with my death.  
i know everyone has different experiences with <strike> drugs </strike> w33d *cough* but like this is my genuine retelling of an actual event that really happened to me. last night. minus the sex. unfortunately. anyway.  
this is thanks to zerozerokyu prompting me with:  
"Sugar on Aisle 13. Business man Percy had to do his own shopping as he just fired his Assistant. Credence is working at the supermarket to earn money for school. Percy decided to give Credence some sugar." I obviously played fast and loose with things, Credence is probably in college but its not important to the fic, so i dont mention it. percy may have had an assistant and fired them, but its not mentioned.

Percy is exhausted, he can’t believe this bullshit. After a long day of professional arguing, with clients, with judges, and other lawyers, he still has to go to Whole Foods all on his own to pick up his groceries. 

It’s a dumb thing to complain about, but sometimes Percy doesn’t have the energy to answer the phone much less go out and interact with more people just to be able to restock his fridge. He drags his feet, crossing the aisles, finding thirteen, and locating the precise type of kombucha he wants for breakfast enhancing tomorrow. 

Percy frowns at the shelves, because it looks like his favorite flavor is out. “Fuck.” Someone clears their throat.

He looks over to see a clearly uniformed worker eyeing him, mossy green polo shirt, dark wash jeans, long hair pulled back into a ponytail, along with a kind face, and welcoming expression. Too bad Percy is out of fucks. 

“Do you need some help sir?” the guy asks, while Percy can’t make out his nametag, he doesn’t really care. 

“Kid, how much are they paying you? Actually, I don’t care. I’ll triple it if you can follow a list and buy me the shit I need. Can you sign a contract digitally?” There’s an angry sort of headache pounding between his eyes, and Percy wants to lay the fuck down with one of his frozen margarita sticks that he knows for certain are in his freezer at home.

“Uh-h-h, sir, I don’t think I can just-” The guy looks nervous now, glancing around like they’re being monitored, or recorded or some equally creepy shit. Percy sighs. He puts his basket down, lifts his hands up, and then jerks his head.

“Follow me. Outside. Or you know like, take me to your smoking spot. I need one.” He’s throwing his weight around. Being intimidating because this kid seems very much like the type to  _ let _ him. Percy feels a touch better when the guy’s hand instinctively goes to the pocket where his lighter and cigarettes must be. “Oh okay.”

Percy ends up trailing after the guy around the store, then through a door marked in loud bold letters “ **Employees Only** ” as he goes on past a couple dumpsters, then into a clearly abandoned sort of alleyway. He shoves his hands in his pockets and watches the guy light two up, both perched between what look like very soft lips. “Here you go.” Percy eyes his nametag, “Credence… thanks.” Sounds like a girl’s name to him, but whatever, these days, even his name could be too. 

He takes a long drag and then fights the urge to cough while breathing out. 

Percy can’t remember the last time he smoked such shitty cigarettes. 

“You live like this? Smoke breaks as often as you can, then what, back to minimum wage?” Percy asks. 

“Yeah man, that’s everyone right now. We’re in a recession. It’s why I can’t risk losing this job. You’re just a hot-shot Wall street dude, aren't you? Missing your suit though.” Percy barks out a laugh. This kid is hilarious. 

“Cute. This is my ‘post workout, showered at the gym’ outfit. Sorry if I don’t  _ look _ like money right now. I can show you…” He pulls out his wallet, and flexes the leather pouch, revealing the crisp bills in there, pulling one out to show off the obviously printed five zero. Credence’s eyes widen, and then flicker up to meet Percy’s smirking gaze. “Holy shit.”

“So yeah, what do I owe you for bumming a smoke?” Percy puts the fifty back and pulls out a hundred instead. “This?”

He hands it to Credence, who looks at it like he’s expecting it to go up in smoke itself. 

“I’ve never held this much money in my entire life. This is half a paycheck for me right now.” Credence breathes. 

His cigarette is smoldering to nothingness in his other hand, and Percy taps it, making him drop it, then puts it out underneath his heel. “This is what I’m giving you now, on a whim, because you listen well, and you’re, frankly, adorable. Like I said, whatever you make now, triple it, that’s your new hourly rate as my personal assistant. Capice?” Percy watches him, and the guy looks like he’s thinking very fast. He finishes his cigarette as Credence just eyefucks the hundred dollar bill in his hand, then carefully folds it, tucking it into his front jeans pocket. Smart. 

No one’s going to try picking the pocket closest to the dick, because that’s too easy to spot. “Okay. But I’m not going to quit here. Not yet. Just in case. I work three shifts a week. I can do your personal assisting thing also.” Credence says.

Percy grins. “Fine with me. Just come when I call you, and we won’t have a problem. Nine to five, that sort of thing.”

“I should get back…” Credence says, trailing off, and glancing back to the door. 

Percy grins. “Sure thing. Call me when you’re off, and I’ll send a car.” He pulls one of his dozen business cards out of his wallet, reaching over to tuck that in Credence’s pocket, along with the hundred dollar bill. The guy shivers, but Percy isn’t a coward. Credence frowns a little, “But I don’t live far, I take the bus. That won’t be necessary.” 

“I wasn’t asking. You need to sign a contract a non disclosure. Better tonight than tomorrow. I’ll drive you home too.”

Percy pats a hand on his shoulder, noticing the way Credence sort of leans into it, then his hand drops. “See you later.”

* * *

Once the guy walks out of the alleyway, and from Credence’s line of sight, he peels open the cigarette carton and fishes out what the real prize is, his small collection of hand rolled joints. 

“Jesus christ alive.” He murmurs to himself, lighting up, then inhaling deeply, holding as long as he dares. It burns hotter, hurts more, but god, it’s so much better than just tobacco. Credence finishes that one and sort of floats back inside the store, with the rest of the night crawling by, until it’s nine, and he can clock out. He grabs his bag from his locker and fishes out his cellphone, dialing  _ Percival J Graves _ . 

The line rings three times, before clicking, and a more digitized and knee meltingly hot voice answers. “Graves.”

“Hi, this is Credence. I was just giving you a call when I got done, like you said.” Credence holds his breath, and the man chuckles. “Oh yeah, hey. I’ll text my driver. He’ll be there in five minutes.” He frowns a little, doubting, but says, “Okay.”

Has this dude just been pacing the block for the last three hours or what? A black shiny sedan pulls up to the curb where Credence is standing exactly four minutes later, and the window rolls down to reveal the driver. 

“Hi there. Credence from whole foods?” He nods.

“Mister Graves sent me to pick you up. Hop in. Shotgun or backseat, your choice.” Well, shit, Credence isn’t sure when he’ll get to do this again, so he goes for the backseat, the proper luxurious riding choice. The drive is smooth, so much better than the local inner city bus, as well as  _ silent _ . After the driver told him to get in, he never speaks another word. Credence isn’t sure if he’s weirded out, or grateful. He’s pretty tired from his shift, and dealing with all sorts of rude and pushy people at work, so it’s kind of nice not to have to talk. The sedan pulls up to a row of expensive looking brownstones approximately fifteen minutes later, and Credence blinks, the driver is saying they’ve arrived. 

“Okay, thank you.” He climbs out and goes through the front door, only to be greeted by  _ another _ person. 

“Welcome to Macusa One, Mister Graves is expecting you. That’s the seventh floor, number nine. Have a pleasant evening.” The girl behind the desk gives him a cheery smile, despite the lateness of the hour. Credence awkwardly nods.

“Won’t I see you in a bit when I leave again?” He can’t help asking, once he’s pushed the button for the elevator.

“Oh I don’t know how long you’ll be here sir. I might be away. Have a good one though!” Credence looks back to find the doors sliding open, a soft chime letting him know what is only obvious by seeing. “Okay, thanks.” 

He’s starting to get the impression that he’s just run into someone who is very powerful and extremely rich, so Credence’s heart pounding out of his chest is all he can really hear as he walks the hall away from the elevator, despite the soft classical music playing overhead. Number nine isn’t marked with anything special, no welcome mat, no decorations on the little ledge outside the front door. Credence walks up to it and knocks as hard as he can, making his knuckles smart.

It swings inward instantly, massive lock clicking, and Mister Graves is right there, wearing a fancy looking bathrobe, house shoes, and holding a glass that’s probably got alcohol in it. “Credence, my boy, come in, come in.”

He does, and then marvels at the inside of what looked like any other apartment. It’s lavish, yet sparse with the furniture, everything washed in gold and soft browns, leather and metal, with black marble in the kitchen, shiny wood floors. Credence thinks he can almost  _ smell _ how much money is in everything that surrounds him. “Are you thirsty or hungry?” Mister Graves is asking, and though Credence’s stomach rumbles in the positive, he shakes his head, swallowing thickly.

“I’m fine thanks.” He’s starting to think that getting high might have been a bad idea, before coming here at least.

“Well, I’ve drawn up a standard contract of employment, the NDA is just in case you end up seeing confidential information about any of my clients, to ensure you won’t hamper or damage my cases, you can’t repeat things. Have a look. Please. Feel free to take it home and think it over if you like. Any changes you can note on the back, or in the margins, and I’ll have it redone.” Credence blinks, then narrows his eyes, squinting at the papers. It looks like a lot.

“You sure I can take this? What if I copy it and leak it?” He asks, his voice sounding strangely higher than normal.

Mister Graves chuckles. “It’s just a legal document for employment. Nothing juicy in  _ there _ , I’m afraid.” 

He sounds almost disappointed. 

Credence presses his lips together, and then looks over to the man, where he lingers, leaning against the bartop counter of his fancy kitchen. “Do you live here alone?” He sort of blurts it out, feeling his face go hot, but Mister Graves doesn’t appear insulted, nor does he notice how Credence’s face is an open book to his emotions. He's a real adult, probably nearing his late thirties, although the silver at his temples isn't necessarily a good judge. Credence doesn't want to be rude and ask. 

Mister Graves answers him with a gentle smile.

“Yes. No roommates. No curfew. It’s nice being an adult. What about you, Credence? What’s your home situation like?”

Credence blinks again, clearing his vision. Mister Graves is watching him intently, sipping from his glass. It’s something like he’s seen in a television show, with one large ice cube instead of several smaller ones. Amber liquid surrounds it.

“Can I have one of those? If I don't have to drive myself home that is.” Mister Graves’ mouth twitches, half smiling. 

“Certainly. It’s an old fashioned. I’ll confess, I’m too lazy to do a proper recipe, so I just combine a double shot of bourbon with a spoonful of sugar and a cherry. You might say I have a sweet tooth.” Credence puts the contract down and cautiously takes a step closer. “Could I just try your version first? I’ve never had a real cocktail like that before.” 

Mister Graves nods, extending the hand with the glass. 

“Go right ahead. I’m no bartender. I won’t make fun of you if you don’t like it. It’s purely my own design.” 

Credence knows damn well he shouldn’t drink on top of the weed, but everything about this place seems to encourage him to do things he never has before. He can feel the man’s eyes on him as he takes the glass from his hand, and their fingers briefly meet, making something in Credence’s stomach lurch. Or maybe he’s just hungry. He takes the tiniest sip, catching a light citrus scent, mingling with the sweetness of cherries, swiftly cut down by the sharp and burning taste of the liquor. 

Credence blinks rapidly, eyes watering from the pain as it goes down his sensitive throat, mildly scorched from smoke. 

“It’s, um, nice.” He chokes out, and promptly hands the glass back. 

Mister Graves smiles almost knowingly, and then puts the glass down onto the bartop. 

“I have soda too, if you’d prefer. Naturally sweetened. I can’t stand that high fructose bullshit.” Credence nods. 

“Yes, please. I’ll have a ginger ale if you’ve got it.” Mister Graves goes behind the counter to the large silver brushed fridge, and opens it, bathing himself in a fluorescent glow, “Excellent choice. I like using that as a mixer, so I always have some. That and whole foods brand of coke, because, frankly nothing can beat whiskey and coke.” He pulls out an icy looking familiar green can, closing the door to walk it over to Credence, and he pops it open to have a long drink. 

The sugar rush doesn’t hit immediately, but Credence feels instantly better, despite his stomach still being far too empty. 

“So, what happens after I sign this?” He asks, and Mister Graves scoops his glass back up, taking a long drink before answering. “Now that I have your number, I’ll text you if I need anything. You’re on the clock from nine until five. Even if I don’t need you to do anything, say, all afternoon and you just picked up my dry cleaning that morning… you still get paid for the day.” Credence gulps. That’s a lot of money to think about having for doing almost nothing. “What about that? If I have to take the bus or something to get your stuff? Will you pay for the pass? I have a monthly one, but it only covers one punch in and out a day. More than that…” He trails off, wondering if Mister Graves knows enough about public transport to call him out on his lie. “Sure, yeah. We could call it gas money. Twenty bucks a day enough?” 

Credence exhales slowly. “Oh, yeah that’s perfect.” Mister Graves smiles, “Great. Any other questions or concerns?” 

Lunch breaks, healthcare, paid time off… Credence just swallows. “I don’t think so.” He’s still got whole foods, after all.

Mister Graves doesn’t move quickly, not here, like this, but it seems sudden when he’s right beside Credence, tapping a finger over the back of his hand, the one splayed over the contract, as if rubbing the letters printed on the paper will make them vanish. He just grips the can harder, and feels the thin metal beginning to bend. “Credence, don’t worry. This is to hold me accountable as well as you. I won’t fire you without notice or reason, and there’s no obligation to do anything for me outside of business hours. There’s always an option for overtime work, but it’s not required for you to say yes.”

Mister Graves is saying, sounding very official, despite the evidence that he’s probably three drinks in, and his words meld together slightly. That could also all be in Credence’s head, thanks to the weed. 

“Outside of business hours?” He repeats, asking it like a question. Mister Graves’ hand moves over his, up and up, until Credence feels goosebumps erupting over his skin, and the man is massaging over his bicep, under the fabric of his sleeve.

“Yes. Personal favors that have nothing to do with my office, my work.” Credence gulps, and his gaze darts away from the pages, over to where the man is watching him, lips inches from his glass, then he watches as Mister Graves drains the glass. His throat moves in a way that makes Credence feel hot, squirmy, like his insides are a rattlesnake, coiling to strike.

“Do you mean like sex?” He blurts out, unable to help himself. Mister Graves doesn’t  _ seem _ like the type, everything about his apartment, or rather, condo, screams  _ eternal bachelor _ ,  _ womanizer _ , but god, who knows anymore? Credence can already feel an apology bubbling out of his throat, while his face flames, but then Mister Graves smirks, licking his lips. 

“Why, Credence, yes. I think you know very well that’s what I mean.”  _ He’s right? _ Credence’s heartbeat grinds to a screeching halt as the man’s hand moves away from his arm, and slides around the back of his neck instead, grasping at his nape, fingertips stroking the soft hairs escaping his ponytail. “But Mister Graves, I haven’t signed anything yet…”

Credence can’t get enough air suddenly, he’s sweating, he feels it down the middle of his back, under his uniform shirt. Mister Graves’ hand tightens, and his knees give out. Oh fuck. 

“I already gave you a hundred dollars, didn’t I? Surely that covers a kiss.” The man says, barely above a whisper, considering how close he is to Credence, if he’d not been able to hear Mister Graves, he’d have to be deaf. “Oh… yeah.”

That’s all he gets out, before there’s no space between them, Credence’s hand lets go of the ginger ale can in favor of grabbing for any part of the man he can reach, while feeling the determined warm and soft press of lips against his own. 

Mister Graves must have recently shaved, there’s no rough scrape of five o’clock shadow on his chin or cheeks, and Credence can  _ taste _ the bite of the cherry, orange, with the smoky undertone of whiskey and his own cigarette on the man’s tongue. “Oh my god. Christ. I’m going to be in very big trouble with you around, Credence.” Mister Graves is saying, and breaking the kiss to move back, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead, looking a bit ruffled. Credence gulps. Did he do that? The man’s hair is messy, his eyes glassy and his lips bitten red. 

He touches his own mouth, fingertips tingling. “Sorry.” He says it almost instinctively. 

“Don’t you dare apologize for that, Credence. The fact that a kiss makes me feel on the verge of coming untouched like some kind of teenager is not a fault by any stretch of the imagination.” 


	2. Chapter 2

_ Why did he say that? _ Percy watches Credence intently, feeling his heart racing after that more or less innocent kiss. 

Something about this guy is intoxicating, Percy hasn’t felt such an instant attraction to anyone in over a decade. 

Hiring him to be his personal assistant with no chance of this sort of fooling around would be an exercise in pure torture, so Percy is eternally grateful that Credence didn’t run screaming at the mere idea of it. It’s far more than a suggestion now.

“Do you uh, want me to stay the night? Is that what this is?” Credence finally says, after a long, agonizing moment of silence. Percy takes a sip from his now empty glass, just the giant ice cube slowly melting around the watery cherry. 

“No, absolutely not. I may have originally had that in mind before, but I realize it’s not smart to do that. I don’t want to treat you like a one night stand when you’re going to be working for me.” He chuckles dryly, mostly at himself. 

Credence hesitates, not moving away or coming closer. 

“I feel like a hundred dollars should get you more than one kiss and one cigarette.” Percy eyes him over the rim of his glass, whether or not this guy has experience in that arena, and judging by the fact he works at whole foods, he’s likely  _ not _ someone used to sex work. “I’m not hiring you as a sugar baby, let’s get that straight.” He says. Credence blushes prettily.

“No, but you want that outside of business hours… don’t you? Technically…” Percy blinks. 

“Fuck. You’re right. God, sorry. I’ve fucked this up haven’t I?” He moves away from Credence entirely, leaving his empty glass to sweat on the counter, he collapses onto the couch, blankly staring out the living room window, into the city, early nightfall making the lights appear like stars on the surface level. 

“Well, no. I think you’re really hot. I didn’t even know I was gay until I graduated high school, had my first kiss with a guy, and you know… stuff. I definitely won’t do that tonight. I live with two roommates. Brothers. They aren’t the type to worry about me, as long as I text them updates every so often.” Credence trails after him, but slowly. 

Percy glances over and sees the guy fumbling with his work shirt hem, wrinkling it like he needs something to do with his hands. “So… another kiss?” He asks, knowing very damn well how quickly that can turn into something else entirely. 

“Yeah. Okay.” Credence now follows him down onto the couch, sitting right in his lap, lowering his head to meet Percy’s without a single fucking word. He tilts his head up, and Credence pushes back, kissing him like his life depends on it. 

He may not be aware, but he’s grinding down, rocking his hips slowly, and Percy touches him, feeling right between his legs. Credence moans softly into the kiss, but doesn’t stop it, or stop him in any kind of way, so Percy rubs harder, the heel of his palm centered right on the guy’s dick through his jeans. Percy’s already aching too, cock hard, trapped under his robe, the thick fabric impossible to feel anything at all through. He licks into Credence’s mouth, cautiously, and Percy feels a groan vibrate through the guy’s body, before both of his hands suddenly push his robe apart, baring his chest. 

“Mmm, fuck.” Credence murmurs, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead against Percy’s, while groping over his exposed skin, then going down to open it more, until he hits the line of the robe tie. Now he’s basically shirtless, with the folds of terry cloth hiding him from the waist down. Percy’s chest heaves as he pants for breath, and Credence’s eyes flutter, long lashes kissing his pale cheeks. “Do you… can I, uh, fuck.” He all but face palms, as Percy swallows. “What’s up?” 

“Doyouwantmetosuckyourdick?” Credence mumbles, while Percy  _ thinks _ he can parse out what he said, he’d prefer clarity.

“Sorry, one more time? I’m old and deaf.” He grins a little, and Credence laughs. “Shit, sorry. Can I suck you off?”

Percy inhales sharply, feeling his cock actively twitch at that. “Fuck yeah. God. Are you sure?” If Credence is feeling obligated because of the money, he’s going to strangle himself later for the stupidity of giving him money before the contract is signed. “Yeah, yeah I am. I want your dick in my mouth right now.” Credence says, already sliding back out of Percy’s lap, going down to his knees on the carpet, both hands working on undoing the less than elaborate knot of his robe tie. “Okay, okay, awesome.” Percy says in response, because what else is there to say? 

Credence bites his lip in concentration, yanking the other half of his robe open, baring his embarrassingly hard dick, thighs as hairy or worse than his chest, and then he just strokes over him. 

Percy has to grit his teeth and look somewhere around the fridge to avoid losing it from just that, before Credence has even put his mouth anywhere near his dick. Luckily, he doesn’t wait around for an engraved invitation, ducking his head and putting those soft lips onto Percy’s cockhead with what must be a tiny moan. _Something_ vibrates onto Percy’s throbbing flesh, and it’s a whole fucking lot, it feels better than his own hand. That’s pretty much all he’s known for the last six months, since his last case ended with angry letters and bad press.

Now that Percy’s back on top, he’s doing this. Hiring a personal assistant who he also wants to fuck, very, very much.

Credence’s hands grip lightly on Percy’s thighs, sort of soothing caresses and slow massaging touches, while he bobs his head and sucks over his dick, loud, wet, enthusiastically obscene with his blowjob technique. Percy finally gives in to the urge to  _ look _ , and comes approximately three seconds later, tragically on the backstroke, as Credence blinks up at him, tongue pressing flat against the slit. “Fuck.” Percy chokes out, as the guy catches the first stripe of white on his tongue, then has to use a hand to keep the rest from going too far, much less getting any on his uniform. 

Credence firmly squeezes over his dick, milking Percy’s orgasm, smearing the remaining white ropes over his lips and chin, lowering his head to keep the tip of it in his mouth until it’s absolutely too much. “Okay okay you gotta let go.” Percy gasps out, and Credence obediently does just that, apologizing, while licking at the mess drooling on his fingers and over his knuckles.

“Yeah no it’s okay, I’m just a little sensitive.” 

Normally Percy is all for overstimulation, he’ll keep fucking whatever until it really hurts, but tonight, he’s already tired and drunk, in need of a big glass of water and a hot shower. He’ll sleep like a baby. 

“Did it feel good for you?” Credence asks, and Percy gives him his best ‘no shit’ look. The guy doesn’t get it of course, and he probably just looks like he’s frowning. 

“Shit yeah. It was amazing. What about you, come here. Lemme just-” Percy offers, holding out his hand at crotch level, as Credence is already getting to his feet. 

“Oh god, you don’t need to do anything, I uh, did what you thought you would do earlier from the kiss.” 

Percy blinks, swallowing thickly, eyeing the front of Credence’s jeans properly. They’re dark wash, so it’s nearly impossible to tell, but judging how the guy is blushing, he’s saying he already  _ came _ . In his pants. From blowing Percy. Fuck. “Oh. Okay, great. I’ll uh, text my driver.” He says, pushing himself up off the couch, only to stumble against Credence, who catches him, miraculously, looking extremely sweet and apologetic. “Yeah, thank you.” Percy isn’t  _ drunk _ .

He’s just dizzy from a great blow job, and sleepy. The guy backs off, not before squeezing at his arms to make sure he’s good. Percy sighs, pulling the halves of his robes back together, tying it up, then he runs a shaky hand through his hair, watching Credence as he retrieves the contract papers, then takes a drink from his now warm ginger ale. “Okay. So, yeah. Think it over.” He tells him, walking Credence to the front door, leaning against it heavily than probably is necessary.

The guy smiles over at him, looking almost shy. “I’ll text you tomorrow, either way, when I’ve decided. Okay?” 

Percy nods rapidly. “Perfect, perfect. Yeah.” 

“Goodnight.” Credence says quietly, giving Percy a very strong vibe of ‘needs a kiss to seal the deal.’ 

He lurches forward a little, and Credence seems to get the idea, meeting him with a soft final press of his lips to Percy’s. 

“Goodnight.” 

* * *

Credence goes home, having been driven in the fancy sedan of Mister Graves,’ walks into his room as silently as possible and collapses onto his bed without even stopping for the bathroom. 

He lays there, staring up at the ceiling, mouthing ‘what the fuck’ to himself for a good few minutes, before forcing himself back up and getting stripped fully out of his dirty jeans, sweat soaked uniform shirt, and everything else to take a very long, very hot shower. 

Credence brushes his teeth in there too, to save time, and once he’s dried off, passes the fuck out on top of his sheets. Newt wakes him by pounding on the door, yelling about waffles, and he rolls over to sleep for another few minutes, but really just checking his cell phone. Credence has one new text from the number he didn’t save, but is Mister Graves.’

_ Any questions from the contract yet? Let me know.  _

Credence hides his face in the pillow for a long few seconds before typing back a response of:

‘All good. I signed it. You can come get it from me tonight when I get off at seven.’ It’s a lie, but of course, Mister Graves doesn’t know that. Credence  _ will _ sign it, but after he eats something, first. He gets a prompt reply. It’s ten in the morning on a Saturday, so he’s guessing the man slept in a little too.  _ That’s wonderful. I’ll come personally to get it. Thank you. _

Credence knows this means he’ll get to see Mister Graves  _ inside _ the sedan, rather than him just having the driver collect the signed contract, which is a daunting sort of promise. If he sees the man again, he’s going to want more… off hours activities. Credence’s heart is already pounding as he pulls on a pair of boxers and trudges out to the kitchen, where Newt and Theo are both demolishing stacks of fluffy looking waffles. 

“Hey man. Did you have to stay later last night at the Foods?” Newt asks him, eyes wide, curious. Credence grimaces.

“Yeah. It sucks. I’m looking for another job.” Theo snorts, elbowing his brother. “What did I tell you? Pay up. He’s barely been there a month.” Newt frowns, first at his brother, then at Credence. “Hey, he hasn’t quit yet. Cre, give it more time. Please. I can’t lose again.” He just gives the redhead a half smile. 

“I’m hoping for something else part time, so I’ll do both. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Theo.” 

Credence stabs his fork in the older redhead’s direction, and Theo laughs. “You know there’s always an offer for you at my place. We need barbacks.” He’s not sure if Theo has an ulterior motive for wanting him to switch, like an employee hiring incentive, or something similar, but Credence doesn’t really feel comfortable with the idea of working in a strip club. Not yet, at least. Newt has told him before that he could always just be a dancer, like he is, and Credence immediately declined that offer. Now he’s imagining vivid scenarios of Mister Graves coming into the club and finding him  _ there _ , on stage, or behind the bar. He shivers. 

“Well keep your chin up, maybe you’ll get lucky and meet some rich old lady who needs to hire a companion, then she’ll die and leave you all her money.” Theo jokes, while Newt rolls his eyes, and pours Credence some orange juice. 

“Not all of us have such elaborate fantasies about how to cheat the system, These.” He doesn’t really blame either of them. Growing up in a rich family only to be disowned for not following the ‘proper’ career path, as well as being gay, in Newt’s case, and a bit of a man whore, with all genders, in Theo’s case, Credence can see why it’s frustrating. 

He’s been an orphan and unwanted, as well as poor, all his life, so he doesn’t know much else. 

The Scamanders taking him in as their roommate after high school was the first break he ever got, so he’s grateful. 

His guardian gave Credence the ultimatum of finding his own way once he turned eighteen, because he’d be on his own, and so far, he’d proved her wrong in labeling him a sinful failure. He lazes about for the rest of the morning, before reluctantly showering again, this time not as hot, nor as long, because it’s less for cleanliness, and more for reliving last night, but putting himself in Mister Graves’ place. Credence’s eyes squeeze shut as he comes against the tiles, imagining the firm wet grasp of his hand over his cock is actually the man’s mouth, bringing himself off with a low cry. He can only pray that the sounds of the water muffled his noises, but he dries and pulls on another clean uniform shirt, briefs, and a fresh pair of jeans. Walking out into the kitchen, Theo is playing video games and yelling at someone through his headphones, while Newt taps away on his laptop. “Hey. What time are you off again tonight? We could go see a movie.” Credence grimaces.

“Might be late again. Busy week, back to school and all. Let’s plan for a movie tomorrow, matinee is cheaper anyway.”

He feels a little guilty for lying, but Credence is used to it at this point, even though the last people on earth to judge him for possibly getting laid would be his roommates. Newt shrugs, chomping down on a handful of chex mix. “Okay cool.”

Credence’s bus ride to work is uneventful, as is the hour after clocking in. He takes a smoke break the second he gets his first tasks done, using another joint, because he needs  _ something _ to calm his nerves. Credence regrets having to leave his cell phone in his locker until his official lunch break, but it’s better than getting addicted to texting Mister Graves, while risking being caught. Except for bathroom stalls, there’s really nowhere to sneak text that isn’t covered by cameras. 

Outside in the alleyway would work too, but then Credence has it in his pocket, as an obvious lump. 

Plus, it’s misting out, so he’d be getting it wet, then shoving it into damp fabric holder. 

Mister Graves is coming to see him, because he thinks it’s important to collect the contract in person. 

_ Or maybe he wants to see Credence _ and pay him for another “favor.” This time, if the man offers for him to come back to his place, then stay the night, he’s gonna. Credence wants to do more. He’ll make Theo and Newt proud.    
Since he’s off at seven, Credence is going to ask Mister Graves to take them somewhere for dinner. Mostly because he’s starving, but also he forgot to bring food. He checks his phone on his meal ‘break,’ chugging a bottle of ice water. 

Mister Graves hasn’t said anything, but the forecast for the evening is clear, with a full moon tonight. Credence gulps. 

For some reason he can’t remember if that’s good luck or a bad omen. Time seems to move slowly, but finally it’s a quarter to seven, and Credence has nothing left to do, so he slinks over to the manager’s office, and taps on his door. 

Langdon sneers over at him. “What do you want?” He jerks his head towards the store. 

“It’s empty. The cashiers don’t need anything from me. Can I go?” Credence accepts the huffing sigh, and exaggerated roll of the manager’s eyes. Just because his rich daddy gave him this job doesn’t mean he’s actually better than Credence.

“God, you folks are so lazy and ungrateful. This is already your short shift for the week. Fine, get out of here.”

“See you on monday!” Credence tells him, with a fake cheery lilt to his voice, granting him another eyeroll. 

By the time he actually punches out and grabs his bag, it’s only five til. 

Credence goes out through the alleyway door and starts a second joint, while checking his cell phone for Mister Graves’ text telling him when he arrives. It doesn’t take long. 

The man seems to prefer being early, and his phone chimes at six fifty eight. Credence can’t help grinning in response. 

He walks away from the alley out towards the parking lot, and finds Mister Graves leaning up against another black sedan, this one is much smaller, more personal. So he’s not being chauffeured around this time. “Hey.” Credence breathes. “Hi.”


	3. Chapter 3

Percy can’t help relaxing at the sight of Credence. He’s been on edge all day, equal parts looking forward to and dreading this moment. The acrid smell of weed follows the guy as he walks over, and Percy feels a lurch in his gut. 

“You have weed?” He finds himself asking aloud, and Credence blushes, nodding. 

“Maybe we should talk about this somewhere… private.” Percy nods, “Oh yeah yeah, get in.” 

He walks around and opens the passenger door for Credence, before retreating to the drivers side. 

Once inside, he starts up the engine, but doesn’t touch the gearshift. It’s just to have the air conditioning going, even though outside it’s starting to sprinkle and get chillier with the sun setting. 

Percy glances over at Credence, who merely cracks window a half inch or so to exhale through the gap. 

He hasn’t gotten anywhere close to stoned since law school, because studying for the bar was much too difficult with that sort of drug haze hampering him. But now, he’s off for three days straight, so he has the absolute freedom, if Credence offers. “You don’t have to play innocent, if you want a hit, just ask. I’m not here to judge you, or corrupt you.” 

The guy says, and Percy thinks if he was younger and actually innocent, he’d be blushing. 

“Yeah, I’d like to. But isn’t that expensive? I feel like it’s worse than bumming a cigarette.” He knows it’s a sad joke, not knowing the cost of a gram of weed, while finding a hundred dollars for an ounce of coke to be ridiculous. 

Someone mentioned it jokingly in the office in reference to a case of theirs, and Percy was horrified at the seeming inflation on the cost of drugs. “Yeah but I live with a guy who sells it, so he gives me a discount. Don’t worry so much.” Credence says, or more accurately drawls at him, looking extremely relaxed. Percy wonders if he’s on his first or second blunt. Last night he wasn’t nearly this calm, but it could have been from something else entirely, nerves or otherwise. 

“Well, okay. Yeah. I’d like a hit, but, is there any way to do it like… milder. Secondhand? Shotgunning, I think.”

Credence actually chokes on his mouthful of smoke. “There’s so many other meanings to that word now, my god.”

Percy blinks. “Forgive me. I’m not like, caught up on my slang. Did I just insult you?” He grimaces, and Credence shakes his head, red-faced and coughing slightly. “No, no, but it’s not just about smoking. But! Yeah, we can do that. Lean in.” 

Percy, in his infinite wisdom, assumes that the smoking definition is still the same, so he exhales fully, getting within a handful of inches to Credence’s face, as he takes a long drag, then pulls the joint from between his lips, only to turn it around and gently trap it between his teeth, extending the other side to him. His eyes widen, before he frowns, and then just takes in like any other cigarette, breathing deeply. He can see that Credence is exhaling too, but none of  _ that _ smoke makes it into his mouth, just the pure hit. Percy’s throat burns instantly, but he holds it for a few seconds, then breathes out, as Credence is saying something that sounds like “Holy shitballs dude.” Percy blinks, already light headed. “What?”

“That’s...not milder at all. You just- fuck. I didn’t explain that very well. Did you plan that?” Credence suddenly asks.

Percy shakes his head, swallowing thickly, grabbing blind for the bottle of water in the center console. “Nope.” He croaks. 

Credence exhales. “Shit. You just had a normal hit… like. Second handing is different, I’m such an idiot.” He’s rubbing his hand over his face, and Percy feels entirely too floaty considering he’s not had a single drop of alcohol all day. 

“I thought shotgunning was an excuse to kiss while sharing smoke… I didn’t expect the blunt to be right  _ there _ .” 

Credence lets out a weirdly strangled sound, maybe a laugh. 

“Holy fuck man. That’s so adorable and I hate myself right now. I wish I had made that connection. Shit.” 

Percy thinks he might be sweating through his suit, fucking hell, he could be blushing from head to toe now too. 

“I think… you need to drive.” He says finally, forcing every word out through dry lips. 

Credence nods shakily, undoing his seatbelt, as Percy does the same. After a brief chinese fire drill, at least, that’s what they used to call those in Percy’s day, Credence rebuckles in, and puts the car in gear, pulling smoothly out of the parking lot. “God, I should have checked and made sure you  _ could _ drive. Shit.” Percy mumbles, mostly to himself, typing in his address on his cell phone, setting it up to help the guy navigate. 

“Maybe, yeah, but it’s cool. I have my license, I just can’t afford a car. I sometimes borrow my roommates truck, or if he’s drunk, I’ll take the bus to him and then drive us both home.” Credence sounds very nonchalant about all this, so Percy considers himself lucky, or rather, just another person who needs to be helped. 

By the time they arrive to his condo, which seems like it takes five times as long, though every time Percy checked the time on the dashboard, it is accurate to the estimation that his cell phone navigation gave them as well. Credence pulls into the parking area, smartly aware that Percy’s car is equipped with the sensor to allow them in the private garage. “Anywhere is good.” Percy mumbles, and Credence finds a perfect spot right next to the elevators. “Great. Here we go.”

The guy says cheerily, before shutting everything off, pulling out the key, and handing it over to him. “Thanks.”

Percy is going to be very lucky if he can find his house keys at this point, but Credence is patient, waiting for him at the elevator before actually pushing the up button. Percy makes sure to lock the car three times, just in case, then he follows Credence into the elevator car. “God, I’m so sorry. I’m going to be the shittiest host ever. I wanted to take you to dinner to like celebrate you being officially hired but like, that ain’t gonna happen while I’m like this.” Percy claps a hand over his mouth, apparently the only way to shut himself up. Credence smiles over at him, looking far too sweetly amused at his current predicament. “It’s alright. I was going to ask if we could do that too, but like, we can always order in, right?”

Percy finds himself blinking far too rapidly, so he runs the same hand through his hair, going for casual. “We?”

Credence pulls out the contract papers, just as the elevator door dings. “Yeah. I wanted one more night of like, extra curricular things, before I actually do start working for you.” Percy all but stumbles out of the elevator, with only Credence’s speedy and helpful arm under his own preventing him from falling on his face. 

“Shit, fuck, damnit. Wait, does that mean you… haven’t signed anything yet?” Credence blushes pink as his gorgeous lips.

“Yeah. Sorry. I guess it all seemed too good to be true, you know? But now you’re all uh, baked as shit. So I can’t exactly abandon you.” Percy drops his keys twice, and almost shoves them into the fucking door in his manic state, trying to get them in. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, absolutely.” Does weed always make Percy this insane, caught between wanting to laugh at how easily Credence tricked him to get him to bring him home, and also just getting on his knees to suck him off?

He’s not sure. “Fuck.” Credence eventually has to gently take the keys out of Percy’s unsteady hands, getting the door open on the first try, frustratingly, letting them inside so he can shut the door, and the rest of the world out. 

“I am sorry. I didn’t intend for this to happen at all. I messed up. I admit it.” 

It’s almost annoying how goddamn beautiful Credence is, while all but groveling at Percy’s feet, except still standing up, tall as some kind of elegant prince in the middle of his kitchen. 

“Well I appreciate that. You don’t need to apologize for being cautious.” He watches Credence unpacking his bag, flattening out the contract papers onto the kitchen table, while Percy leans hard against the bartop, feeling very unsteady on his feet, attempting to pull off his shoes. He’s sweating to death inside of his suit, which seems impossibly heavy. 

Credence looks over at him, and maybe Percy has been struggling for longer than he thinks, because the next thing he feels is the guy’s hands on his own, “Hang on, let me help.” 

Percy wants to glare at him and tell him not to bother, but Credence is  _ touching _ him, hands pulling his suit jacket off his shoulders, then loosening his tie, undoing it and leaning in close enough to kiss his cheek. “I’ve got you.” Percy hears.

Before he knows it, he’s half naked, in just his trousers and socks, the rest of his clothes in a messy pile on the ground, probably draped over his shoes, and Credence is nosing against his neck, asking him how he’s feeling. 

“Still hot.” Percy answers, fully honest. Credence has on his work shirt, jeans, socks, but no shoes. 

Whenever those got removed, he’s not sure. “Do you want to get naked?” Credence breathes, right into his throat.

Percy feels a shiver running down his spine, “God, yeah.” He’s hungry, thirsty too, but suddenly those needs fall by the wayside, with Credence  _ offering _ … well, the specifics of which he’s not sure. They’re moving now, lurching in a strange sort of dance, as if underwater, because Percy’s limbs feel far too fucking heavy, in the general direction of his bedroom.

Once inside there, Credence sort of leads him over to the bed, and lets him fall backward onto it. 

Cradled by the immense softness of his blankets, Percy can’t hold back a groan of relief. Gravity, fuck you. 

He reaches down blindly to start undoing his pants, and Credence is doing the same, he sees through half lidded eyes. Percy blinks. He needs to wake the  _ fuck up _ if they’re going to do this, he wants to remember every goddamned second. “Do people do this?” Percy finds himself asking, hoping he sounds less delirious than he does in his head to himself.

Credence glances over at him, midway through pulling down his jeans. “Do what?” Percy swallows thickly. 

“Oh you know,” He makes a vague hand gesture between the two of them. “Fuck while high?” Credence smiles.

“Absolutely, yeah. All the time. It’s so much better for me. I can last a lot longer. Usually. Unless I’m blowing you, it seems.” Percy feels his stomach lurch, and he reaches between his legs to grab his cock. He’s  _ aching _ , hard as a rock. 

He’s really not sure when the fuck  _ that _ happened. “I want to suck you off this time.” Percy finds himself saying. 

Credence finally gets off his boxers, or briefs, whatever they are. His eyes go wide. “Are you serious?” Sneaking a peek at what he’s going to be working with, Percy is suddenly really glad to be blitzed off his ass. Credence is enormous. “Fuck.”

Percy breathes, and then sort of forgets what he was doing. 

Credence makes his way over, through the sea of discarded clothing, and helps Percy out of his pants and underwear, leaving his socks put. “I don’t mind if you wanna keep those on, feet weird me out.” Credence says. 

“Oh yeah, yeah me too.” Percy lies through his teeth, and Credence gives him a sweet little smile. “Cool.” He leans down to kiss Percy without any further preamble, climbing onto the bed and sort of straddling his hips, bringing their dicks into contact, making him gasp into the kiss. “Fucking christ.” Percy chokes out, feeling strangely like he’s on the verge of coming and not, all at once. Every single nerve in his body feels lit on fire, as Credence rocks down, grinding against him. 

“Yeah, yeah it’s nice right? Here, lemme get on my back so you can suck me off.” 

Percy lays completely still, his head spinning, letting Credence get into a comfortable position, before he even tries rolling over. He ends up encased in Credence’s long pale legs, getting a proper eyeful of his massive dick, and Percy doesn’t even say anything stupid, though there’s ten million thoughts running through his head. Credence is circumcised, giving the head of his cock a pink heart shape on the crown, and Percy just admires it for a few seconds, well past the point of weirdness, before ducking down to take it into his mouth. Credence lets out a yell, and bucks up, forcing Percy off, and making him half terrified he hurt the guy. “What’s up what’s up what’s up?” He babbles out, and Credence just exhales.

“Fuck. It’s so good I think I might come too fast. But it’s okay. I’m a quick uh, return.” Percy blinks. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t want to say it out loud, but he might end up getting fucked tonight instead of the other way around. 

Percy swallows, and then goes down again. He works over Credence’s cock until he’s afraid of triggering his gag reflex, no matter how calm and chill the weed has made him. Percy uses his hand on the lower half of the guy’s dick, the other pressing on Credence’s inner thigh, ensuring he doesn’t get crushed when he climaxes. He closes his eyes and hums a little around the head of Credence’s cock, just before a warm salty flood hits the back of his throat. 

“Oh fuck oh shit oh god.” Percy hears, roughly a second later, and he would smile, but then he’d leak Credence’s jizz onto his stomach. “Yeah? Good?” He asks, once he’s finished swallowing, and caught his breath, pulling off the guy’s dick to admire just how sweaty he looks in the afterglow. Credence’s hair is messy, coming out of his ponytail, and his nipples are hard, without Percy having even touched them yet. “Fucking amazing, wow. You’re so enthusiastic like, I had no idea. I just fantasized about this when I showered this morning.” For some reason this makes Percy’s dick twitch, and he turns his head to muffle a moan against Credence’s naked hip. “God. Fuck me.” Credence pleads. 

“I’m not sure I could make it long enough to prep you, and you need that.” Percy says, feeling incredibly overwhelmed. He forcefully pushes off the bed, and goes for his bedside table, yanking the drawer open so hard it screeches on the tracks, and finds the tub of vaseline. It’s old fashioned, but moisturizing and gets the job done, so fuck it. Percy dips his fingers in and gets a glob to rub over his dick, turning back to see Credence already on all fours, ass wiggling in the air.

“Dude…” Percy starts, about to protest he’s not going in dry, no matter how high they both are. 

“Just fuck my thighs, Mister Graves. No pain, no prep.” Credence says. God he’s a fucking angel, a goddamned genius. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” Percy opens his mouth to say something about posture, but Credence already has a pillow under his hips, and his thighs pushed tightly together, as he moves to kneel behind the guy. 

“Fuck, please, do it already.” Credence breathes, a touch whiny. Percy hums in agreement, grabbing ahold of the guy’s waist with one hand, guiding his dick in between those pale legs with the other. 

“Oh, shi-i-i-it…” He groans, thrusting in, feeling the tight hot slick grasp of skin on skin, just as good as fucking any hole. Percy is so hypersensitive, on the verge, it doesn’t really take him very long. 

Credence is perfect, whimpering and moaning, keeping his thighs squeezed tightly together as Percy fucks into them, again and again, wet fleshy slaps of skin all that he can hear beyond the roaring in his ears. 

Percy slumps over Credence’s back, sticky with sweat, giving one final push, burying his cock into the join of his legs, and he’s gone, coming with a rush of pleasure that seems to surge through his entire body, making his toes curl, his fingertips tingle. “Oh jesus fucking christ alive.” Percy curses, and Credence answers with another groan, shuddering beneath him, reaching back to find one of his hands, fingers linking between his own. He moves a fraction, another semi thrust, and Percy feels a secondary wave of bliss rocking through him, though he’s pretty sure his cock has spent, slicking Credence’s thighs, even soaking into the pillow he’s laying on. “God, why is that so hot?” Credence is asking, and Percy doesn’t have the strength to answer, not with words, not right now. He just rolls off of the guy, slumping onto his back, and Credence chases after him, kissing him soundly, licking into his mouth. “Mmm, I can taste my cum on your tongue.”

Percy hears, and his dick twitches half heartedly. “Fuck. You shouldn’t be doing all that mister shit. Call me Percy.”

* * *

“Mmm, yes sir, Mister Percy.” Credence says, feeling only slightly guilty for teasing the man while he’s high off his ass.

He gets a light smack to the back of his bare ass for his words, and he just smiles into the kiss. 

“God. I’m so sorry I can’t fuck you. Not for like… a few hours.” Percy finally says, and Credence shrugs. “That’s okay.”

He’s patient. He’s staying over, he thinks. Credence carefully extricates himself from the man’s embrace and crawls off his bed, trying to avoid getting more jizz on the sheets than absolutely necessary, staggering over to the bathroom.

He locates a pack of wet wipes under the sink, and opens them up, pulling a handful out. 

First he cleans between his legs, then tosses away the used one into the trash can  _ beside _ the sink. 

Credence emerges from the bathroom and goes over to wipe over Percy’s dick, even though he seems mostly clean, the man stirs, and blinks up at him. “What’re you doing?” He’s frowning a little. 

“Just making sure you don’t get any jizz drying in your pubes. It’s gross and no fun when that happens.” Credence says.

“You’re taking care of me. You don’t have to do that. You don’t work for me, remember?” Percy says, sounding almost hurt. Credence feels a bit of a pang in his chest. “Well, no, I know that. But like, I’m not an asshole. Promise.” 

It makes him sad, for Percy to think he would only do this normally if he was being paid. 

Credence swallows around the lump in his throat. What the fuck kind of one night stands does this guy have? 

He puts the rest of the used wipes in the trash and then undoes his hair completely, redoing the ponytail afresh, before climbing back on the bed. “Do you want some water, or maybe a snack?” He asks Percy quietly, and the man shakes his head. “I’m okay. You can leave if you want. I’ll be alright now, I think.” Credence ignores the answering pang that those words give him, and determinedly sets his jaw. “What if I don’t want to leave? I still need to sign everything.” He says.

Percy blinks over at him, frowning a little. “You wanna stay? That’s fine. Yeah. What time is it?” Credence isn’t sure.

“Be right back.” He goes out to grab his cell phone from his bag, texting Newt and Theo together that he won’t be home until the morning, ignoring the questions as to why, and especially Theo’s cheeky little “Who is he?” 

It’s only eight thirty. He’s been there barely an hour. Credence isn’t anywhere near done seeing what Percy is made of.

“Almost nine.” He tells Percy, and the man sighs. “Christ. I’m all fucked up. It seems like we fucked for over an hour.”

Credence grins. “I appreciate the compliment to my stamina. Yours too.” He eyes Percy’s dick. 

Decent sized when soft, but still very much not ready for a round two. “You wanna take a shower? You can if you want.” Percy says, sounding a bit like a tour guide, his eyes closed. Credence almost laughs. “No, I’m alright. We can just rest.” Judging by how high the man is, a little nap wouldn’t hurt them one bit. Percy turns over, pulling a clean pillow against his chest, nodding. “Yeah, lets.” Credence smiles to himself. “Okay.” He figures out how to turn on the overhead fan, which he needs because he still feels sweaty, then flicks off the light. Climbing back onto the bed, he doesn’t intend to smother Percy with closeness, but the man moves again, in his sleepy and high daze, replacing the pillow with Credence. His arm is thrown over Credence’s chest, and Percy’s cheek presses into his shoulder. He can’t really sleep like this, but then again, he’s not the one who is tired. Credence strokes a hand through Percy’s hair, and feels the man smiling. “Mm.”

Maybe working as his personal assistant won’t be so bad after all, if these are the perks, Credence thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...???   
[Post kinktober if at all]

**Author's Note:**

> day 15: <strike> Forniphilia (Human Furniture) </strike> |** Overstimulation |Thigh-Fucking/Intercrural sex |Uniforms **


End file.
